Reinstated Saviour
by Artemis-Fowl.com
Summary: When the President of the U.S.A's plane is shot down over the Solomon Islands, Alex must rescue him from a group of extremist, cannibalistic rebels before the U.S.A give in to their demands and give over their Nuclear Weapons...
1. Air Force One

**Reinstated Saviour**

**Chapter One - Air Force One**

Since 1943, every president of the U.S.A travelled in a plane known as Air Force One. The plane was a specially modified Boeing 747-200B, it had the words "United States of America" painted along the fuselage, and the U.S flag was painted on the vertical stabiliser at the back of the plane.

It was President Clive R. Linnen's first trip on Air Force One. He had been elected only weeks ago and the stress was already getting to him. He had been warned for years about how stressful the job was, and he said he could take it, he was so far. Clive was on his way to a meeting with Alan Blunt from MI6, there was a problem that needed to be solved. They had needed to make a slight detour to refuel but were quickly back on track, they were an hour ahead of schedule and everything was running smoothly. The pilot flicked the autopilot switch and sat back in his seat, he brushed the dandruff from his shoulders and straightened his jet-black suit. He tightened his tie and sat back to watch the view.

Clive looked out of the window, they were passing over the sea, it sparkled and glistened in the sunlight, the sky above them was bright blue with not a cloud in sight. In the distance an island was visible, he glanced at his map and saw that the small beautiful areas of land were the Solomon Islands. They were very remote; the only inhabitants were some rebels - fighting for freedom, as they said - and a tribe, mainly made up of cannibalistic maniacs who spent their time hunting unaware travellers and feasting on their flesh.

An alert sounded on ground; men holding machine rifles and pistols crouched on the floor and raised their guns to the air. Men dropped small missiles into mortars, other men raised heat-seeking missile launchers and many other people just stood and watched. It was a very big operation, there were millions of pounds worth of equipment on these islands, and all of it focused on the skies, soon, something would happen that would decide the fate of the world.

A plane flew over-head, there was a brief moment of silence and then a thousand weapons fired into the sky…

The button flashed, an alarm sounded and lights burst into life, illuminating the cockpit of the plane. The pilot jerked upright and took the controls. There was a large screen with the words "Missile lock" flashing upon it. "Shit…" the pilot muttered… he grabbed the handles and flung them right, the plane shuddered, the lights dimmed for a second as they twisted in the air.

The president awakened from his sleep to find an agent over him, shaking him violently. There was a loud hissing sound that increased with every single second that passed. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion, the plane jerked over, they were going down into the jungle below them.

The rebels continued to fire at the blue skies. The plane was on fire, leaving a trail of dark-grey smoke behind it. There a low humming sound and the plane began to nose-dive towards the ground… men sat on tree branches, following the course of the plane with binoculars, they needed to see the precise crash-location.

The pilot fought for control. He managed to bring the plane out of it's nose-dive but it was too late. They slammed into the ground with incredible force and they bounced along the jungle, taking down trees, plants and animals along the way. They began to slow down, the cabin jerked wildly, every man and woman on board were thrown about like rag-dolls in a washing machine, then it stopped… almost as abruptly as it had started. Silence enveloped the surviving passengers of Air Force One. The president moaned into the silence and tried to drag himself to his feet. There was a tearing pain in his leg and he looked down, a large piece of metal had become stuck in his leg, weighing him down.

In the distance was shouting and the sounds of gunfire and cheering. Men approached the plane and kicked open the doors. They stormed the remains of Air Force One and dragged any survivors free. They were immediately tied up and chucked into the back of a waiting truck. Gathering the survivors took a few minutes, and then they were off, leaving the plane and the dead to rot in the jungle… the survivors were being taken to the Rebels HQ…


	2. Responsibility

**Chapter Two - Responsibility**

Alex sat on his knees, waiting and watching intensely as the action happened before him. The two fighters were dressed in gleaming white suits, a coloured belt hanging loosely at their wastes. They continuously fought, occasionally making contact, but never to cause any damage. Their feet touched down lightly on the wooden floor in a flurry of excitement and adrenaline.

"Yame!" the sensai called. The students recognised the command, stopped, bowed to each other and knelt beside the wall of the Karate Dojo. "Tom, seen as though you're our newest member, we're going to see how you get along with Alex…" The sensai instructed, smiling.

Alex jumped up - his black belt flapping by his side - and jogged to the centre of the mat. Tom stood up, there was a slight sense of fear in his facial features, and as he walked to the mat he tightened his white belt. He stood in front of Alex and smiled. It was a smile, which Alex did not return. "Rei!" the instructor called, this meant 'bow' and that was what the two opponents did. The both raised their fists, parted their feet and prepared to do battle.

Tom was the first to attack. He lashed out with an open hand but Alex stepped back and deflected the blow with immense ease. Alex then retaliated with a snap-kick, he raised his knee and snapped the rest of his leg out, catching Tom in the rib. Even though he was tense, Tom didn't expect the blow, he stumbled left and tripped, falling off the mat. The fight was over quickly.

Alex was about to sit down when a bell sounded from the doorway. A small metal bell hung above the door, every time it opened, the tip of the door tapped the bell, causing it to ring. Alex looked to the doorway in time to see a strangely dressed man enter the room. "Oh hell…" Alex muttered, as he approached the man. It was John Crawley, and Alex was far from pleased to see him. "What do you want?" He muttered in disgust as he reached Crawley. "I told you, I'm not working for MI6 anymore."

Crawley looked offended. "Did I say we needed you? Can't a friend visit a friend every now and then?" He asked.

"I'm not your friend! I'd rather smash my own kneecaps and crawly around a car park than be your friend!" Alex stared at Crawley, ignoring his discomfort. "My life has been ruined by you and MI6! I have been shot, battered, kidnapped, attacked by sharks, you name it and I've done it! Can't you just leave me alone?" He shouted.

"I'm sorry you feel that way Alex… but we have an issue we need-"

"Stuff your issue!" Alex shouted. Every head turned to the dispute. Alex lifted his arms and pushed Crawley, who stumbled back.

"If I ever see you again Crawley, I'll kill you." His words were final. He grabbed his backpack that lay on the floor beside him, flung it over his shoulder and stormed out of the Dojo.

* * *

"He wouldn't listen," Crawley said to Blunt, "so what are we going to do?"

"There must be something. Unless somehow the President escapes, the U.S.A will hand over their nukes. And then we'll have an even bigger problem."

"A small extremist army, armed with 70 of the worlds nukes… a problem no one wants to deal with." Crawley muttered.

"We just have to hope…" Blunt replied, putting his head in his hands

* * *

Alex turned the key in the lock and stepped in quietly, trying not to alert Jack of his presence. "Alex, is that you?" A call from the living room. The TV must have been on, there was the sounds of a riot and gunshots.

"Damn."

"Alex! Come here a minute!" Jack called, a hint of excitement in her voice. Alex dropped his back by the stairs and entered the living room.

…_are calling favours in from all across the world. The UK has promised aid of some sort, but it is yet to arrive…_

"The President of the U.S.A has been kidnapped! His plane crashed down and some rebels have caught him and holding him for ransom. No one knows what they want yet."

Alex slumped down on the couch and sighed. Jack knew that look. She had seen it a few times before. "MI6 want you again?" Alex did nothing but nod. "You don't think they want you to save the president do-" Alex cut her off with yet another nod. "Alex… that's a job even too big for you…" Alex sighed and stood up. He knew what he had to do. He had promised to never get involved with MI6 again, but… here he was. If he didn't do something, the outcome could affect the entire world. Jack simply nodded her head, she knew what he had to do also.

Alex left the house and head towards the Royal and General Bank.


	3. My name is Alex

**Chapter Three - "My name is Alex"**

"My name's Alex Rider and I work here," Alex insisted. But the receptionist was not having it.

"Look, just let me speak to Alan Blunt or John Crawley!" The receptionist typed a few letters on her keyboard, stared at the screen for a few brief seconds and then turned back to Alex. "I'm afraid we have no one by that name employed here."

Alex sighed and leaned into the receptionist and spoke into her ear. "I am not stupid. I know this is MI6 head quarters. I work for MI6, I am an agent, and my name is Alex Rider..."

"Security!" The receptionist called. Suddenly, two well-built men started advancing on Alex. "Hey... guys... I work here, you must know Alan Blunt?" The two men were not listening. The first one reached Alex, and he had no choice... but to take them both out. He jumped into the air and swung his leg round, it crashed into the side of a guard's head. He slumped to the floor, unconscious. The other man drew a baton and swung it at Alex's head, the teenager flung his arm up, the baton crashed into his wrist and Alex used his other hand to smash into the attackers face. He turned back to the receptionist. "Now, where was-" A hand gripped his shoulder, he turned and found himself looking into the dull eyes of Alan Blunt.

* * *

The compound was fairly small. There were about five or six huts confined to an area about a quarter of a mile wide. Outside of the compound, jungles stretched out in all directions, there was a narrow winding river that ended about three miles into the island. 

The largest hut was where the president was being held. He had eight guards watching him twenty-four hours a day. The compound was protected by a thirty metre tall wooden fence, which had men patrolling it at all hours. There was another hut that was filled with weapons. They were mainly made up of A.K. rifles and Desert Eagles and a few missile launchers... terrorist weapons.

There was another hut, which had TV broadcasting equipment in it. This was where the rebels had sent their first message. They were leaving it a few days for the U.S.A to make a decision.

* * *

Alex found himself sitting in Alan Blunts office. It was even duller than the man himself was. Grey walls. Grey desk. Grey carpet. Grey desk. All of his paperwork was neatly placed on the desk. Alan Blunt entered the room without laying an eye on the teenager that sat beside his desk. A bird fluttered to window and sat on the sill. Alan Blunt stepped to the window and pushed the bird off. He slammed the window shut and took a seat behind his desk.

"Thank you for coming Alex. I presume you already know the situation?"

"I know some of it."

"Well, to be brief. The president was passing over the Solomon Islands on his way to a meeting with me. Some rebels with extreme firepower shot it down. We now believe they are holding him somewhere on the south side of the island, and we need you to save him."

"Well... I thought out that part for myself..."

"Well, you've been briefed. Go and see Smithers for your kit."

* * *

The unfortunate man was wearing a tattered suit and sunglasses. He had the U.S. flag stitched to his jacket, he was a bodyguard to the president. He had been tied to a post that was located in the centre of the compound. A few woman were standing around him, throwing a white substance at him, he caught some in his mouth and it seemed to be salt.

Another man joined the woman, this one was holding a large stick. It was very thick, and it had blood on it. Suddenly, without warning, the man swung his bat at the bodyguard. He repeatedly hit the bodyguard with the stick until he was battered and bleeding. The woman continued to throw salt which stung his wounds.

One of the women approached him and took his hand. She bent down as if to kiss it, but instead, took his finger in her mouth.

_What the hell is this?_ The man thought to himself.

The woman took the full length of the mans finger into her mouth... and then bit it off. The man howled in pain, the woman pulled the finger from her mouth and tore the flesh from it with her thumb and forefinger. She slipped the bloodied flesh into her mouth and swallowed it greedily. The other women began tearing flesh from his stomach and arms. The pain was numbing now for the man. A peaceful darkness began to consume him... all went dark and he felt nothing.

* * *

Alex knocked on the door. There was a muffled call and he pressed down on the door handle. He pushed open the door and stepped in, Smithers was sitting behind his desk, he had a pair of spectacles on and was fiddling around with something that kept beeping on his desk.

He looked up and a grin filled his wide face. "Alex! Jolly good to see you again" Alex smiled and sat down.

"Right, I have some great little things for you this time... I spent ages working on them."

He pulled a small white rectangular box from his draw and placed it on the desk. Alex saw that it was an iPod mini.

"You should know how to use one of these, so I'll just tell you which songs do what. Hysteria, by Muse, turns the iPod into a transmitting camera. We have people watching it 24 hours a day, so the moment you play that song you are transmitting video to us. Welcome to the Jungle, by Guns'n'Roses turns it into a tracking device, so if you ever need us, just play that song and we'll be there in half a jiffy. And last but not least, playing Mosh by Eminem will give you five seconds to run away from your iPod. It will explode."

"So that's why no one likes Mosh." Alex muttered.

"Now, I have been told that you are allowed a gun this time and I have-" He stopped at the excited look on Alex's face. "I have constructed a nice little weapon for you. It has a machine gun, a grenade launcher and a grappling hook... all in one! You just change the setting with this little switch here and then pull the trigger!"

Smithers handed the iPod and the gun to Alex. "I have one more thing to give you before you go, it is something I have been working on for a while. But you must only use it if you really need it" His voice had begun grave, his face drooped. "Blunt has told me you will be facing terrorists who, will eat you if you are captured..."

"Don't remind me."

"I hate the thought of you being eaten, old chap, so I would like to inject you with something, if you are captured, all you have to do is say 'ali baba' into a small microphone and I will activate it,"

Smithers stood up and waddled over to Alex. He pulled a syringe from his pocket and slid it into Alex's arm. He injected the toxin into his blood stream then leaned into Alex's ear. He placed a very small microphone into the inside of his ear and then stepped back.

"You're ready, good luck..."


	4. Intrusion

**Chapter Four - Intrusion**

The rebels had everything planned perfectly, nothing could possibly go wrong, they weren't taking any chances. They had even installed a metal fence that extended 20 metres below ground to stop people digging their way in. They were still awaiting a response from the Pentagon about their course of action, the rebels even had a contingency plan, so if the Pentagon decided to blow the islands up, they would be ready.

* * *

Before he knew it, Alex was doing something he vowed never to do again. He was being strapped into a small black pod, roughly double the size of Alex. His bag of gear was tightly strapped to his back and Alex was fitted in full camouflage gear. He had even had his face painted to match the jungle and a large machete had been slipped into his belt. Because he had been strapped to the seat, he couldn't brush the fair hair that was falling across his sweat-covered forehead. He had no idea what was going on, the black pod he was sitting in wasn't capable of flight… and it was then that he realised it was definitely capable of a crash landing. A jet slowly passed over the pod and stopped so that it was directly above him. Blunt gave him the thumbs up; a group of men slammed the roof of the pod down and latched it shut. There was only one button that was situated in the centre of the pod; it had a small plastic cover over it. It read "emergency open." If you pressed that button there was no going back. 

Alex gulped a pure gulp of terror.

A large clamp was lowered over the pod and there was a thud as the hooks held onto it. The pod was lifted up and held steadily in place under the plane, Alex then knew why he was in this small sphere of terror.

A radio concealed somewhere in the pod burst into life with a short two seconds of static. Then Blunts voice pierced the small area of within Alex sat. "This plane will fly you over the Solomon Islands. It will release your pod so that you land in a small lake, which comes off of a river. From there, you must head south to find the camp and retrieve the president. Make your way to the East Coast where a helicopter will meet you," his words were final, matter of fact, the radio died and a low humming began. The jet was firing up…

* * *

The man with no name was just one of millions employed at the Pentagon. And he was in charge with ordering the air strike over the Solomon Islands. The terrorists had twenty-four hours to hand over the President or be bombed into next week. 

MI6 were unaware of this strike as Alex was released from the plane and went flying towards a large lake.

* * *

Alex felt his stomach leave the pod as they slammed into the water at a break-neck speed. He was fully submerged for about a minute but the pod finally popped back above water. He flicked open the plastic case over the button and pressed it down, there was a hiss and the hatch flew open. Alex reached down and unfastened his belt. Alex stood up and looked around, he was right in the centre of a lake, he had to swim to get out. He balanced on the edge of the pod and dived in, his body making a slight splash as it entered the water. He front-scrawled to the beach and climbed onto the beach, the water from his body already beginning to evaporate in the sun. He pulled out a compass, held it into the light and headed south into the jungle…

* * *

Two men had seen the pod, floating in the middle of the lake. They had driven back to the compound and explained what they had seen. 

"You search the jungle until the intruder is found…" the man started, glaring into the eyes of the rebels, "I want them caught and killed."


	5. Encounter

**Chapter Five - Encounter**

A sharp shrill pierced the rooms silence. A hand gripped the phone tightly and picked it up, the man was obviously annoyed by the interruption.

"Mr Blunt?"

"Speaking."

"This is a representative from The Pentagon, there is an important issue we need to discuss, one of which you have no say"

"Go on…" Blunt muttered, he didn't like being told he had no control over a situation. He was to be respected.

"Well, the rebels have come to us with demands. They say they want full control over our full Nuclear capacity or they will kill the president and launch an attack on the U.S.A, we have no choice but to air strike. We have 24 hours to comply."

"I have a man in there. Launching a strike would kill him."

"You tell your man he has 24 hours. If he hasn't done it by then, he won't do it at all… goodbye Mr. Blunt…"

There was a click and the phone went dead, leaving blunt staring at the handset in disbelief. He would inform Alex, and leave the decision to him, it was the only right thing he could do.

* * *

Alex had the large, heavy machete in both hands. He was wielding it and using it like a madman. The blade had been sharpened so it could slice through steel, let alone plants and trees. He was using it to slash his way through the dense undergrowth of the jungle, he was lost, wet, cold and hungry. His food rations were untouched, he intended to find a reasonable clearing and camp out. The compass indicated to keep heading in his current direction, but the jungle seemed to be never-ending, an endless field of fear. The sun was beginning to set, making the sky go a dark gold colour that seemed to come from the heavens.

There was a burst of static in his ear and voice, barely distinguishable by Alex, came to life. There was a few seconds of incoherent speech before the voice was finally recognisable.

"Alex, do you copy?" Blunt spoke into his ear, his voice held a slight tint of urgency.

"I copy" Alex replied, not knowing quite what to expect by his sudden interruption. It was not like Blunt to hold any sort of emotion within his voice.

"We have a bad situation, I'm going to leave the choice of action totally up to you."

_Well, that's a first, but what's the catch? _Alex thought sarcastically.

"Ok…" Alex muttered, confusion overtaking him.

"The U.S.A are not going to comply with the terrorists new demands. They will be ordering an air strike on the island within the next twenty-four hours. You can either be pulled out now or carry on and try to complete you mission."

Alex stopped cutting and slipped the knife into his belt, his eyes squinted, the cogs in his head came off autopilot and went into overdrive.

_There's nothing more I can do here…_

_I have to finish this…_

_I could finally finish this MI6 business if I save the president…_

_To hell with it… might as well go out with a bang…_

Alex's train of thought was brought down to earth when a voice buzzed in his ear. "Alex, we need a decision quickly."

"I'm staying here, I'll stay."

"That's what I wanted to hear… good luck" The voice immediately ceased and Alex was once again left on his own in the jungle. There was a gust of wind that rippled throughout the undergrowth, causing Alex to shiver.

Things became quiet… too quiet (pardon the pun). The sound of gunfire alerted Alex, "Oh! Shit!" He cried as a tree above him exploded, sending bark and leaves in all directions. Alex dived to the ground and the bullets exploded from within the jungle, shattering the foliage above him. He reached down to his belt and whipped the gun out, setting the catch to "grenade". He fired it into the air and ran, slipping on the ground. He was about thirty metres away when the grenade impacted upon the floor. There was an explosion that literally shook the ground, Alex was taken off his feet and thrown an extra twenty metres forward, he slammed head first into a large tree and crashed to the ground, blood oozing from a crack in his head. Silence enveloped the jungle, the gunshots had ceased, the gunners probably caught in the blast. Alex opened his eyes and stood up, feeling a bit light headed, the blood was running down the back of his neck and seeping into his clothes. He reached back into his bag and pulled out a long thick, green coloured bandage. He wrapped it around his head, tied it and pulled it tight, causing himself to wince painfully.

"Did you get that?" Alex spoke to Blunt. Silence. Something was wrong.

"Hello?" Nothing. Alex stuck his finger in his ear, searching for the millimetre big microphone. It was gone. He looked to the floor, it was littered with debris, bullets and charred items. It was no use; it was like searching for a needle in a haystack, or some variation.

"Not good… not, not, not, not, not, not good…" He muttered to no one in particular. He shrugged, picked up his gun and stumbled forward into the darkness of the jungle, whipping his machete out and slamming it into the undergrowth…

* * *

Night time was approaching, the rebels had given up their search until morning, much to the displeasure of the leader. The explosion had shaken some of them up, the intruders were definitely some sort of Special Forces unit, and they were well armed by the looks of it. When morning came, they would load up and head into the jungle to swat this unknown fly.

There were stories of a child spreading around the came, a child that could match and adult. These were ludicrous, myths made up for a joke.

* * *

There were three jet-blue phone boxes located near The Pentagon building. A man stepped into one. He was of either British of American nationality, but his accent was thick and foreign as he spoke into the phone. He was heavy-set and the only baggage he carried was a large metal suitcase, it had two padlocks, and four code combinations. The case was almost certainly made from steel and there wasn't a dent or scratch in view.

"I am waiting for signal." The man muttered, each of his vowels being slurred by his accent.

"Good." A short quick reply came from the listener, who had a British accent.

"When signal comes, I carry out mission, then money transferred, no?"

"Seven Hundred and Fifty million dollars deposited to an account in the Caymans"

"That is good."

The phone went dead, the man left the box and walked into a nearby hotel. He pulled a key from his pocket and entered a room somewhere on the third floor. He would wait until the signal and carry out his mission. His mission: unknown.


	6. Gunned Down

If you think the end is nigh... you are so wrong... so so wrong...

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Six - Gunned Down**

The blades of the helicopter thudded through the air and glided easily over the sea, the letters "CNN" painted clearly on the side.

_Bloody Americans _Alex muttered as it passed overhead. He knew this wouldn't end well, probably with the deaths of a few CNN reporters.

A bunch of ignorant, Americans had ignored the US's warnings and had gone to try and get footage of the rebels.

Big mistake.

The nose of the chopper dipped and the helicopter crew began videoing. The cameraman looked into the lens in time to see a missile, blasting full speed towards them. "SH-!" the helicopter exploded in a fist of fire. Black smoke curling into the sky. The blades stopped and the helicopter plummeted into the jungle…

Alex watched, the helicopter was plummeting into the jungle… there was only one problem. It was plummeting towards him.

"Ooooh hell…" he shouted, running. The helicopter crashed down behind him and exploded once again. The blades came loose and whipped through the air, Alex threw himself to the ground just as the blades past over his head… another second and they would have sliced him in half.

"They don't get much closer than that…" he muttered, writhing on the floor, trying to pull a piece of shrapnel from his leg. There was a tearing sound and is came free, the piece of metal was at least five inches long, and it hurt, badly.

He limped to his feet, he must look a mess. His camouflage was tattered and ripped, he had a large, sodden bandage that was wet through with blood and he now had a dripping hole in his leg.

And to make matters worse, as he walked into the jungle, a few minutes later… he came across a large wooden wall…

* * *

…_the stock market crash is due to- Oh my… new reports on the presidential kidnapping…a CNN helicopter, apparently trying to gather video footage of the rebels has been shot down!…All of the crew have been killed…_

_

* * *

_

"You were warned. And now you shall pay the price…" The man threatened down the phone.

"But-" Click. The rebel placed the phone on the hook and dialled another number, this one directed at a hotel near the pentagon. After a few seconds waiting, a man picked up the phone.

"Fire." A solitary word muttered down the handset. The phone hung up on the other end.

* * *

In the hotel next to the pentagon, the man had received his signal. He lifted the mattress up that lay on his bed and tugged a briefcase out from beneath it. He dropped it to the floor and changed all of the codes. He put his hand into his mouth and pulled a key that was concealed under his tongue. He placed this key in each of the locks and opened them up individually, pulling out the compact missile launcher, which lay within.

He stood up and walked to the window, where he aimed his missile launcher at The Pentagon building. He pulled the trigger.

_The missile blasted out of the launcher and whipped across the street. It drooped down right until the moment when it reached the pentagon, and then it shot right up. It ascended into the skies, did a small turn and then blasted back down into the centre of the building. It exploded right in the centre of the building…_

The rebel smiled. The man behind the missile launcher smiled. The whole world didn't.

* * *

…_the BIGGEST terrorist attack has just destroyed almost the whole Pentagon building…_

… _whoever is behind this dastardly deed…_

…_terrorists…_

…_have…_

…_struck…_

_

* * *

_

"Set up the sacrifice. I want the president killed within two hours."


	7. Cannibalism

I am very sorry I have had to make you all wait so long for the newest chapter, but it's up now, and I hope you like it… the cliff-hanger is horrendous… 

Also, I'd like to thank everyone for their feedback, so please keep reading and rating, there will quite a few more chapters after this one so… enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Seven - Cannibalism**

"You didn't comply. Therefore your president shall be killed. An attack will be launched on your country."

"But-"

"We warned you. You chose to ignore us. We are not a force to be reckoned with."

There was a click and the phone went dead, leaving the American in a state of shock.

* * *

Alex placed his hand on the wood and pressed softly. It was strong wood, probably made from Oak, and it was at least three inches thick. The wall was too high to jump, and there wasn't any crevices in which to place his feet, Alex sighed and stepped back, and then he realised…

_It has a machine gun, a grenade launcher and a grappling hook..._

_a grappling hook…_

_a grappling hook…_

Good ol' Smithers… Alex thought

Alex flicked the switch to "Grappling Hook" and aimed just over the wall, he had to just pray that no one was watching when the hook went over. He squeezed the trigger, the gun jolted and a small hook glided over the wall. He tugged and he felt resistance, the hook was stuck.

He pressed the retract button and Alex was dragged forward with amazing speed. He was pulled up the side of the wall and stopped when the wire had fully retracted. After hoisting himself up, he quickly scanned the compound to make sure no one had seen him, he was lucky, no one had.

He pulled the hook from the wall, pushed the gun into his belt and jumped down, making as much noise as a cat.

He stealthily made his way forward, using the broken walls and rubble as cover, he reached the first hut and peeked in through a gap in the window. The room was empty except for a large chain hanging from the ceiling, the floor beneath it stained a crimson red.

"Sick sons of…" Alex muttered, a look of pure disgust upon his face. There was a creak, Alex turned around, a man had just rounded the corner, he was still looking away… Alex looked around for somewhere to hide… he jumped through the window into the blood stained room.

* * *

A small crowd of people were following. It was a private feeding, the leader of the rebels was going to eat the president in the ritual room, people were allowed to watch through the windows, but anybody who entered the room would be killed.

"Bring him." The leader called into the crowd. A small bead of sweat trickled down the side of the President's face, no one could save him now, he was going to die a long, painful death and he couldn't do anything about it.

He was dragged into a small room and his hands were fastened to a chain that hung in the centre of the room. The president looked out of the dust covered window, wanting to view the sky one last time, and then he noticed the teenager…

* * *

With no where else to go, Alex had climbed onto the ceiling, using cracks in the wall to hold himself up.

A wave of hope spread across the presidents body, but then vanished as he realised that it was only a child. What could a child do that several bodyguards couldn't?

The leader locked the door from the inside and stepped to the president. He pulled the victims head closer to his and licked his cheek, savouring the flavour of his sweat.

Alex struck… he swung from the ceiling and slammed his heel into the back of the rebels head. The man stumbled forward and fell against the wall, he regained himself quickly and spun around, flinging his fist at Alex. Using his slow movements, Alex grabbed the mans fist, wrenched it over his head and pulled. There was a crack and the wrist fell limp. Alex whipped the gun from his belt, flicked the switch to "gun," and placed it against the rebels temple. "Any last words?" He asked politely to the man nursing his broken wrist.

"Go to hell you mother-" Crack. The mans head exploded, Alex winced as blood was splattered across the room.

Cries of anger and outrage pierced the room and people started to bang on the windows. Alex fired the gun again, this one broke the chain binding the President.

The windows that the people were pounding on began to crack… hands began to reach in…

They were trapped.


	8. Escape

After making you wait so long for the last chapter, I have written this one quite fast, but I do believe it is one of the best ones yet! So, happy reading folks and please keep a' reading and rating!

* * *

**Chapter Eight - Escape**

"What now!" The president cried, staring at Alex's hair. The boy was watching, transfixed as the people tried to get access to the room… they were like zombies… hungry for flesh. The glass was being shattered quickly, large chunks of the window were falling from the frame and shattering across the concrete floor.

"Give me a minute." Alex muttered "I'm thinking."

"What are we going to do?" He cried once again, clearly starting to panic. "They're going to get us! I know it!"

"Shut. Up." Alex quickly scanned the room with his eyes, looking for an escape. The walls were a bare, yellowish colour, but there was one section that didn't match the rest, it looked newer, as if it had just been plastered. Alex reached out and rapped on the different piece of wall, it was hollow. He then knocked on the normal wall; it was made from brick and made only a small sound when knocked on. Alex smiled at the president and stepped to the odd coloured piece of wall.

"What?" The president asked, confusion showing clearly in his voice. Alex said nothing, he just smiled, and then suddenly he brought his fist up and sent it crashing through the hollow piece of wall. It crumbled, giving them a tight escape route. Alex pushed the president through, right before crawling through himself, accidentally cutting his hand on a jagged edge.

They were out in the open sunlight, the large wooden wall was about 20 metres ahead and the area they were in was enclosed, giving them a slight advantage. Alex pulled the iPod mini from his belt, turned the click wheel and put the song "Mosh" on, it played for about a second... and then he then flung the whole device at the wall… things went into slow motion as all hell broke loose.

Somebody else stumbled through the hole in the ritual room, wielding a weapon. This man took a shot, the bullet landing in Alex's leg. He screamed in pain, before spinning around and shooting the gun-wielder, the bullet catching him in the chest. Blood oozed from a hole right below his shoulder. The iPod mini crashed into the wooden wall and exploded, sending flames and splinters of wood in all directions, one of these also landing in Alex's leg. The flames barrelled into the forest, setting some of the trees alight.

"RUN!" Alex screamed to the president, who ran into the jungle, grunting heavily. Another man exited through the hole in the wall, this one not carrying a gun. Alex tore the piece of wood from his leg and hurled it, impaling the newcomer through the head, and also nailing him to the wall in the process. The entrance was blocked… well, for now at least.

"That should hold the bastards off for a while…"

Alex limped to his feet and hobbled into the jungle, his leg bleeding heavily…

* * *

"What do you mean, 'tough luck?'" The man shouted sourly down the phone

"I mean tough luck as in 'if your man is not out in 90 minutes then he's dead' sort of tough luck"

"You son of a…-" Blunt muttered. Suddenly, a man entered the room, a bead of sweat was dribbling down his cheek and he looked agitated.

"Mr. Blunt, we have a serious problem."

"What is it? I'm busy." Alan looked up, annoyed at the sudden disruption.

"We've lost contact with Alex Rider."

"Oh hell…"

One minute, twenty-three seconds later and Alan Blunt was sitting in the communications room, being spoken to by a young man wearing funny spectacles, his face littered with spots.

"His iPod just… disappeared… kabloosh… gone."

"What do you mean, just gone?"

"We think he used it to destroy something."

"We'll just have to hope he gets out in time."

"Hope is a pretty big risk, Sir."

"There's nothing we can do"

* * *

Alex had found the president in a tree. How he got up there, Alex didn't know, but getting him down was the hard part. He kept snagging himself on tree branches and moaning about something to do with the American security bill, Alex began to laugh softly as the man tried to climb down the tree.

Finally, after several minutes of pure torture, the president finally managed to get down from the tree, only to put his hand on a piece of metal stuck in a tree.

"Ow! Christ, that hurt!"

"What?"

"I got pricked by a bit of metal." He muttered, tugging the jagged silver piece of steel from the tree. It was about eleven inches long and one side had a strange pattern on it.

"Give me that." Alex told the president

"Why?" He asked.

"I said give me it."

"But why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to leave you in the jungle to rot, be eaten alive by either the very large snakes or the cannibals." The president handed him the metal, Alex grinned.

Alex was surprised to see part of the American flag printed on the side of the metal, and, upon further inspection, there were loads of pieces of metal all over the floor.

"Follow me," Alex muttered, setting of into the jungle.

"Where are we going?"

"To the plane, maybe there's a radio there that we can use."

"Oh…" He stared at the ground and carried on walking, trying to think of something to say, finally, he spoke "So… who are you anyway?"

"My name is Alex Rider, and I am a spy for MI6."

"You're a spy?"

"That's what I said."

"And how old are you?"

"Fourteen"

"Jesus… isn't that dangerous?"

"If you've seen some of the crap I've seen, this is a walk in the park."

"Why? What's happened to you?"

"Well… my parents have been killed, my uncle - who was another MI6 spy - was murdered, my father, who I found out recently was an assassin was killed by an organisation called Scorpia, the same organisation that shot me in the chest four weeks ago. I've been kidnapped by a sadistic Russian madman, shot with arrows, I've been drugged, beaten up by members of a Chinese Triad, I've nearly drowned, almost fallen off the side of a hot air balloon, attacked by a large snake covered in spikes and a whole range of other awful things. Any more questions?"

"Holy… Shit…" The man muttered, his swearing very informal for a president.

Alex felt his feet crunch onto glass, he looked up and saw the remains of Air Force One…

**_The air strike would be fired in fifty-seven minutes exactly._**


End file.
